


Thoughts

by kecleon



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Experimental Style, Gen, Implied Bullying, Medication, Mentions of Suicide, Mild Sal/Larry at a point, One Word Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13778196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kecleon/pseuds/kecleon
Summary: A single word can bring forth a lot of thoughts, and Sal's someone with a lot to think about.





	Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> before you read: the formatting looks much better on a laptop! also i'm calling forth a creative license here.

_Exhaustion._

He never wanted to leave his house anymore.

Each day was a struggle; just to wake up, to get dressed, to eat.

He avoided the mirror, pretending the face looking back at him was a stranger.

 ~~Repulsive~~.

His father asked too many questions; many that he was too tired to answer.

“Is something happening at school?”

“What's going on with you, Sal?”

“Do you want to see a therapist?”

Until finally,

“We're going to see your doctor next week.”

He shrugged.

He didn't care.

He was exhausted. 

 

  
_Pills._

The doctor prescribed an antidepressant.

Then another one.

And another.

Prozac, Zoloft, Cipralex.

“It’s not doing anything.”

“I feel sick after taking these.”

“I feel numb.”

Finally he was given a concoction of pills that helped eased the constant anxiety. From school, transit, existence. Helped the suicidal thoughts, made him into a semi-functional ~~robot~~  human being.

So each morning he’d chase down a handful of chalky pills with water, trying to pretend it didn’t make him want to gag when they stuck to his throat.

At least his dad had stopped nagging him.

 

 

_Moving._

One day; during dinner his dad mentioned they would be moving.

Sal stared at him.

“Why? Where?”

“I think it might be a fresh start, and -”

“For you? Or for me? Because wherever I go, everyone is going to see me as a freak!”

Utensils clattered, and the sound of a slammed door soon followed.

Henry Fisher put his head in his hands, sighing.

He knew about the bullying. How his son had no friends at his school, mainly due to his appearance.

He just wanted Sal to finally have some friends.

Teenagers were awful.

 

 

_Addison Apartments._

As the building came into view, an uncomfortable feeling overcame him.

Wariness?

The place was creepy and unwelcoming, with the fifth floor boarded off for “repairs” - if it was under repair why could he still access it? -, and a general smell of stale dust. Not to mention the apparent murder that _had_ to happen the day they move in.

There were other kids his age living there though; maybe he’d be lucky and they'd be nice enough to hang out with him.

If not, he always had Gizmo.

This was their so-called “new beginning”, so making at least one human friend was expected of him.

“New beginning.”

Sal didn’t believe they could leave what had happened in New Jersey behind them.

Just look at his face.

All they were doing was continuing to avoid the problem.

Or was Sal the problem?

Maybe his meds just need to be increased.

 

 

_Larry._

Usually people asked, “What happened to your face?”, with a look of either concern or disgust across their face.

No one had ever said, “Woah, nice mask!”

So when Larry had, Sal had just stared at him, mildly stunned.

“It’s a prosthetic.”

“Oh shit, sorry man.”

He spoke with honest sincerity.

A small smile spread underneath the prosthetic, and Sal replied,

“It’s cool. I’m used to much worse by now. I’m glad you like it.”

Larry had smiled back.

 

 

_Ghosts._

He and Larry had come to the conclusion that the apartment complex was haunted.

Neither of them minded too much; it gave them something to do.

Ghost-hunting.

“Why would a ghost haunt a toilet?”

“Ghost poop.”

“What that fuck, Sal.”

“Maybe he died taking a -”

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

Another kid in the building accompanied them on their adventures.

Todd Morrison.

He was kind of a computer nerd, but that came in handy sometimes.

His weird-but-cool  inventions helped dispel that red-eyed demon thing, which was great, in Sal’s opinion.

Larry thought so too, but wasn’t as enthusiastic.

“My dad… he just…”

Sal hadn’t known what to do, so he had given Larry a hug.

“I’m sorry.”

 

 

_Friends._

Larry.

Todd.

Ashley.

He had a few friends, which was enough for him.

They treated him as if he  _normal_ \- something he wished happened more.

They’d go out after school to the mall, play video games at home, watch movies - regular teenager things.

Sal was thankful for it.

 

 

_School._

It wasn’t anything special.

If anything, it was like his school back in New Jersey - minus the fact that this time around he had a few friends.

He did alright in his classes, maintaining a B average.

There was the gross cafeteria, the cliché (homophobic) bully, and the little cliquey friend groups.

High schools seemed to be the same everywhere.

 

 

 _Sight._  

Two eyes; one glass, one real.

It’s all he had. What he had grown adjusted to.

Having only one eye didn’t block it out.

The stares he’d receive wherever he went.

No face; just a prosthetic in its place.

He didn’t want to look scary, but he did.

It wasn’t his fault.

But that didn’t stop people from being disgusted by him.

 

 

_Faces._

Everyone saw him.

They thought he was a freak.

Sometimes he thought about killing himself just to get away from the stress of it all.

Then he'd remember how much effort it could require. How he'd leave behind Gizmo and his dad, and now his (few) friends.

So he doesn't, and lets everyone watch him with stoic indifference.

 

 

_Parents._  

His mom had died back in Jersey.

There wasn’t anything else to it; nothing he wanted to bother telling anyone.

Larry’s dad had gotten up and disappeared, and that’s all he had to say.

Parents were confusing - they either were happy or angry with you. Or they were just apathetic to everything.

At least that's how Sal felt about his dad.

Larry thought otherwise, with his mom being overly concerned with his behavior, grades, and generally everything under the sun.

“She can be kinda overbearing.”

“My dad's always busy working. He doesn't really have time to worry about me. As long as I'm taking my pills I'm fine.”

“Sal…”

He had shook his head, looking back down at his Gear Boy.

He decided then that he'd never have kids.

 

 

_Fear._

Sometimes he wondered if his dad had wished Sal had died instead of his mom.

Sometimes he thought that Larry was going to get sick of him and tell him to fuck off and don't come back.

Sometimes he'd sit there in his bedroom late at night, staring at his pills and wondering how much it hurt to die by overdose.

He never spoke aloud these fears.

He was good at pretending that everything was fine.

 

 

_"I love you.”_

“I love you, Sal.”

The sound of pencil scratch paused, as if processing what had been said. Then it resumed, with Sal saying,

“I love you too, Larry.”

“So if I kissed you, you'd be fine with it?

The pencil scratch stopped once more, with Sal staring directly at Larry.

“I've never kissed anyone.”

“Neither have I.”

 

 

_Time._

Things were okay.

For awhile.

Everything became hazy.

He didn’t -

**It’s your fault.**

 

 

_C̵͘͞oR͜u͝p͜ ̡͠͡t̨̕i̸̢͘ǫ̡ ̛͠ņ̵._

D---h Pe-a--y.

Afraidafraidafraidafraid.

~~Larry.~~

?Todd?

ashleywhy.

He was innocent.

He swore upon it.

“Please believe me.”


End file.
